Monday, 21 July 2008

Where does it all begin?

Holidays are funny things. I mean when exactly do they start? At what exact time do you class yourself as being "on holiday"? I always thought the moment you put your bags into the boot of the taxi to take you to the airport was it. That's when the anticipation really takes hold, and you are officially travelling. Then there is the airport, once you have offloaded your bags and go through customs, because then you are kind of officially in a different country, or at least no longer in your home country. It's the kind of timeless, locationless feeling, traveller's limbo. I love the fact it is probably the only time you will drink alcohol at 5am that isn't still part of the previous night's session.You are between timezones, and you know that some places in the world it's actually a sensible time to drink, so why not join them? I have to say I'm one of those travellers that loves airports. I love the clean environment, the view of huge great planes out of the window. I also love the stupid shops. Sunglasses I can understand, and some souvenirs are OK as I have bought presents for people at the last moment this way. Duty Free is fun, especially when you are off on a flight outside the Eurozone, but I have never ever once bought one of those ridiculously large Toblerones. I love chocolate, but not in quantities you would normally buy building materials or to the extent where I want to pay excess baggage for it.

On the other hand, today when I went for a coffee break at 4pm I realised that in one week's time I would have just over an hour before I was officially "on holiday", so when I leave work the day before I go. Does that mean the time holiday starts? Probably not. I don't like to define my holiday as being directly related to work, or lack of it, but it is a nice feeling knowing you aren't setting foot in the office until your holiday is over.

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